Little Less Than FUBAR
by Tanzen Sie Mit
Summary: It all started because a Frog pissed off a redhead and ended up taking a brunette along for the ride. 'They always said that two heads were better than one but there's four. Wonder if that means I'm lucky or just screwed'
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **All rights reserved and belong to their respective owners. Beta-ed by Barbara so any and all remaining mistakes found are mine, completely. Typos happen. This is also the only place the Disclaimer will be seen.

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Five years old and already Anthony DiNozzo realized that he wasn't like most other little boys. Well, he knew that his family had more things than others did and that his Daddy was really important, but he'd never realized just how far they, The DiNozzos, were from the families around them. It was quite disconcerting for his young mind to process the differences, but even more so to have the fact that he wasn't _normal_ hammered in by one too many _stern_ talkings emphasized by the rancid smell of twelve-year-old malt wafting off his father's breath. 

It was another two years before he understood what secrets meant. Black and blue, and hiding under thick sweaters and long sleeves when his Mother let him out of those horrid Sailor suits. He hated them, the oversized trappings, but he didn't have a choice in the matter. But if he could, Anthony decided that he'd rather get rid of the bruises circling his upper harms and shoulders where his father's thick fingers wrapped and pressed into his soft flesh, instead.

The abuse lasted until two months before his twelfth birthday. He'd honestly thought things were getting better, that his father was finally starting to accept him; but it wasn't the case. No sooner had he come down for breakfast and a tart 'Happy Birthday' from the staff, and one warmer greeting and hug from Nanny Amoretti, than his Father met him by the side door with four suitcases and a sneer. Fishburne Military Academy was his hell for six years. And it was the place where Tony learned, again, what secrets were for.

Heated words and a loss of more than just family money, and he was off to college where life began. The classes were long, the workload hard, and most of the Professors complete bores, but Anthony loved every second of it. He was free here. It was also the first place he understood what family meant. The Brotherhood meant everything to him; they were family. And it helped sweeten the deal that the girls were _nice_. After college came the Police Academy, a string of rough and tumble moves between states and precincts, to finally end up at NCIS - Naval Criminal Investigative Service. He not only ended up there, but was hand-picked by NCIS' lead investigator.

Oh yes. Life was good.

Until it went to hell.

Gibbs had left them; him. Left him to take the lead. Left him to try and pick up the pieces. He tried; he really did. Apparently not hard enough because Ziva still didn't trust him. She called Gibbs for help, and left him in the lurch. That stung, but he could understand it; supported it even.

And now Gibbs was back, and Tony was hip deep in shit with no waders; and Madame Director was just making it worse.

'_Damn, speak of the Devil,_' he sighed, dropping the Director's gaze. He knew that look, so he had to make his excuses and head up to her office for yet another dressing down for not getting her what she _needed_, and a kick in the ass to do his damn job.  
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"Tony," Jeanne's soft voice wafted from the kitchen alcove. "You're being awful quiet out there." There was a muffled chuckle; she found his subdued attitude amusing. "Tony?"

Anthony sat nestled against the gauche floral pattern of his _girlfriend's_ couch, elbows on his knees and hands cradling his head. The Director had given him an ultimatum - an impossible task. And he was supposed to follow orders, right? But how could he? How could he **do** this?

"Tony?"

DiNozzo's head snapped up at the worried tone and blinked at the woman silhouetted in the doorway. "Jeanne. . .?"

"I said, you are being awful quiet out here. Is something wrong?"

"You've no idea," he answered, sotto voce. He covered it by pretending to clear his throat, and then sat up straighter. "Nothing a little home cooking and lip service couldn't fix."

A smile played across her lips as she moved across the room with a sway in her step. "Well, I'm not much of a cook, but the latter I could provide easily." Slender arms reached out to wind around obviously tense shoulders, but jerked away when Tony flinched at her touch. "**What** is the matter with you Tony?! Why are you flinching away from me?"

'_Shit!_' He tried to salvage the situation by reaching out to Jeanne, but she'd already retreated several steps away. "It's nothing Jeanne, honey. I'm just not up t. . ."

"Don't you dare lie to me Anthony DiNardo. I want answers and I want them NOW." She crossed her arms firmly across her chest, frowning expressively. "For the last month you've been pulling away from me. We talk and laugh, and there is the occasional cuddle session after a movie marathon, but we haven't _touched_ in a long time. So what is it? I thought you loved me!"

The response, the reassurance that he did, indeed, love her, died on his lips because the truth left him breathless. He'd told her he loved her and had meant it when he'd said it. . .But he didn't. Not anymore. **Not. Anymore.**

And Jeanne knew.  
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"Abby . . . please be home," he whispered to the dark wood, and pressed redial on his cell. God his head hurt, but he'd just screw his eyes shut and bite down on his lip if he had to knock to get her attention. He was saved from that fate when a groggy voice picked up on the other line. Tony sent a silent thank you up to the heavens.

"Abs?"

There was a rustling sound - Abby sat up in her coffin, covers spilling over the curved side - then a slightly more alert voice. "Tony? Tony, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry for calling so late, but, Abs, I really need some help here and you're it Girlfriend. You're the only person I knew I could come to." His voice slurred a little around the edges, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't keep the pain from slipping through as well.

Abby was out of her coffin and hastily throwing on anything she could find in the way of clothes, racing from her room with the cell held to her ear like it was the a lifeline. "Oh my GOD, Tony, what's wrong?! Where are you?! How badly are you hurt? Should I call Ducky." She drew in a sharp breath, stopping dead in her hallway. "ANTHONY DINOZZO, you're not DYING! I refuse listen to you DIE on the phone! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"Whoa, WHOA! Ab's calm down." '_Please calm down, take a breath. . .don't scream in my ear because I think my head just might explode._'

"I'm sitting outside your door. Er, well, I will be as soon as my legs give out; but before that I'm kinda leaning against your door." He tried to let some semblance of humor seep into his words, but he was too tired, too hurt. "Could I... . .?"

The door flew backwards, sending him stumbling forward and almost on his face in his friend's entryway. How the hell Abby had managed to catch him and guide him to the couch was beyond him.

"He's bleeding! Abby, get your first aid kit; hurry!" Gentle hands worked over the obviously battered body, looking for other injuries.

'_Oh . . . **shit**_'

"McGee?" '_This can't be happening. He's not supposed to be here. God I shouldn't have come._'

"Tony, stop. Just calm down. It's okay." Tim's voice was worried and the hands, though still gentle, held the Agent down. "Abby'll be back in a minute and we'll get you cleaned up."

DiNozzo struggled uselessly against McGee's grip, trying to push himself off the couch. He had to leave. "No, see, that's alright. I'll just go on home. Tell Abby I'll talk to her tomorrow." He was rambling and starting to panic. "I'll call her and everything'll be okay. Okay? You can let go now Probie."

"Ah, no. I don't think so."

"You're not going anywhere Tony! Not until we clean you up." Abby was back with the large black box - the first aid kit - that she kept under the sink in her bathroom. "You've got some 'splaining to do DiNozzo."

Tony sagged beneath Timothy's hands. He knew he was defeated. He didn't have the energy to get away and he was so **tired**. And Abby was his last salvation. He'd hit rock bottom and she was the only thing - person - who could keep him above water. But he'd lied to her, to everyone! He'd been dancing around her questions for months, spinning stories and spouting lies, keeping her at arm's length; would she even . . .'_Oh God, please. **Please** don't abandon me Abs._'

"I. . .I've been so stupid. So fucking STUPID. And I don't think I can do it anymore." He felt so numb; so damn numb, and it scared him. He started to shake with unshed tears, nearly laughing at the absurdity of it all. The sting of antiseptic spray and pressure of a cloth made him wince.

Abby worried at her bottom lip, turning worried eyes on McGee. Panic was slowly building behind her expressive irises. She didn't know if she could trust her voice but knew she had to get through to her hurt friend. He wasn't making any sense. Bleeding and shaking on her couch, and he wasn't making **any** sense! God she'd never been more terrified in her life.

She surged forward and engulfed her best friend in a tight hug, nearly curling herself into his lap. Timothy immediately let go of the older man and resumed cleaning where Abby left off, letting the Goth try to heal Tony the best way she knew how. He could take care of the rest, for now, and let her try.

"Shh, Tony; you're not making any sense, sweetie. Come on, calm down. Start from the beginning, okay?" She curled a hand gently against the back of the dark head and whispered soothingly into his ear. "I'm, we're, here for you. Tell me what's wrong. Please?"

Anthony clung to her, arms wrapping around the slender waist and holding on for dear life. "I can't do it any more, Abby. I just can't. Everything's just gotten so out of hand. The Director… I can't do it anymore. I don't love her and that bitch… God, why does she want me to do that?!" Tony buried his head deep against the covered shoulder. "I lied to you, to everyone. I've been lying about everything. Had to keep it all secret. But Abby, I can't anymore, because I'm dying inside. And I'm scared!"

Abby sent a pleading look over the bent head, tilting her own towards the bedroom. The cell phones were in there. McGee caught on quickly and nodded once. He finished up the cursory cleanup job on the parts of Tony's face he could still get and managed to clean up the mess on the back of his head. He took the soiled cloth and headed down the hall. He had a call… two calls to make.

Slowly she pulled back from him, but didn't let him go, and he didn't seem inclined to release her any time soon. She didn't mind at all. She just wanted him to feel comfortable, safe, loved; she wanted him to be okay. Carefully she combed her fingers through his hair, mindful of the sore spot that still bled sluggishly.

"What's she trying to make you do?" she queried softly, knowing that she had to go slow and be gentle or he'd clam up, or start rambling again.

Tony made a pitiful sound against her shoulder. God he felt so stupid, useless, and used. He felt so weak and broken. But Abby was safe. Abby was comfort and acceptance. He desperately needed that right now, so he was willing to share anything with her; as long as she wouldn't pull away and leave him. And that was a real possibility once he told her… once he told her **everything**. The thought of her turning her back on him had tears prickling at the edges of his eyes.

"I'm really good at undercover ops, you know? Been doing them since my vice back in Peoria." Tony licked his lips and willed the weakness from his voice. "That's what I do for the Director now; I work undercover. Been doing it for awhile now and it was alright. Everything was fine. But… but things changed, ya know?"

"She's obsessed, Madame Director, with this real baddie; arms dealer with a penchant for his profession. Real hinky, Abs. And he's got this daughter, you see. Jeanne Benoit. _Doctor_ Jeanne Benoit; works over at Monroe University Hospital. She's a real special lady and, for awhile, I thought I loved her." That hurt to say but he had to tell her, Abby, everything before his secrets tore him to pieces. "I really, really loved her at one point. But I don't anymore, ya know? You know what they say, '_Easy in, Easy out_'."

"Jenny introduced me to her, but at the time I didn't know the reason. I found out and… and it hurt, okay? I mean, I fell for Jeanne. But it's all lies and deceit. I don't love her anymore. She's just… it's complicated, but I can't do it. And J… Director Shepard wants me to **MARRY** her! Oh God, Abs, I can't!"

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A soft knock signaled that at least one of the people that he'd called had arrived. When Tim opened the door, he was relieved to see that both his boss and Ducky were waiting anxiously beyond the threshold. He immediately moved aside and admitted them.

"Abby's got him laying down in the guest room, Boss; Ducky. He's in bad shape, but I think it's more emotional than anything." Tim worried at his bottom lip, closing the door behind them. "I've never seen Tony lose it like that before!"

"Oh dear. Jethro, I'll go look in on young Anthony." The doctor started down the hallway, but paused when he hear twin footfalls behind him. "Please; give me some time with him, alone with Abby. Right now I wish to keep his stress level low and, no offense my friend," he pinned the fellow gray-haired man with a sad smile, "but seeing you might drive him over the edge, as they say."

Gibbs blew an impatient breath through his teeth and ran a hand over his hair. "Fine Duck, but I want to **see** him."

Donald nodded and moved further down the hallway. "In due time, Jethro. In due time." He disappeared around the corner, and his quiet tone asked for admittance into the room that housed the shattered agent, and the pale forensics tech wafted in his wake.

Boss and subordinate stood in silence for what seemed to be an eternity before Gibbs spun towards Timothy and pinned him with a piercing gaze. Without breaking eye contact, Jethro tipped his head towards the couch, and then waited for McGee to follow orders before following behind the computer whiz. Once they were seated, he immediately demanded answers.

"I… I don't know much more than what I overheard after hanging up with you and then Ducky; but from what I've pieced together, Tony's been running ops for the Director for a long time and this latest one went sour." Tim laced his hands together and leaned forward to place his elbows on the tops of his knees. "Apparently she's had him get, ah, _personal_ with a woman named Jeanne; a doctor that works at Monroe. It got pretty deep there for awhile, but something made him pull back away from this lady. He wanted out but couldn't leave, you know?"

McGee shook his head and plowed on, knowing that it was only a matter of time before Gibbs' temper would flare, just as his own had at discovering what broke the strong, confident man Tony had been. "Director Shepard wanted him to marry her, Boss. I can only guess at what happened tonight, because he won't tell us anything about his injuries, but I think he was with Jeanne… and she found out he didn't love her anymore, or he tried to break it off. Things went from bad to worse, and he somehow got hurt."

Amazingly the senior investigator managed to bite back the litany of expletives that ran rampant inside his head, however he couldn't push the angry color from his face. He was pissed; royally. Of all the dumbest, most self-centered, negligent, and **reckless** things… Director Shepard had a lot to answer for. But he couldn't dwell on that right now; he had a man down.

"Jethro." The quiet accent cut through the mounting tension, and drew both men's attention towards the hall.

Gibbs sprang from the seat and met the elderly doctor in the hallway. "How is he Duck?"

"Exhausted, dehydrated, and generally in poor mental health, but not to worry too much. Nothing a good sleep and plenty of fluids once he's awake won't fix." He paused to clean his glasses, perching them back on his nose. "I would also suggest he take some vacation time."

"Ya think?" The two men shared a solemn smile.

"I'll leave him to Abby's care and will advise that you, Jethro, not push. Let the boy come around of his own accord - which I foresee won't be long now - and please, I implore you, do not come down too hard on him for his digressions." The ME moved around the Agents towards the door. "I must get back to Mother. She was watching the evening show when I left, and I can only hope she took her usual _medicine_ and is currently asleep. But one must never assume. Good evening gentlemen."

The ex-Marine waited until Mallard closed the door before making his way down the hall towards the spare bedroom, McGee hot on his heels and worried as hell. Abby met them at the door, blocking the Gunny's entry.

"Gibbs."

"Abby." Neither moved nor broke eye contact. A small smile tugged at Gibbs' lips at how ferociously his girl protected her own, even from him. He leaned forward. "Good girl."

Unpainted lips parted into a brilliant smile. "Of course, Gibbs; I learned from the best!" She stepped aside and let him inside. Tony was buried under Abby's familiar skeleton pattern comforter; only the top of his head seemed to be visible. "Be gentle Gibbs; he's fragile."

"He's not made of porcelain, Abby."

"Fragile, Gibbs. _Fragile_."

"Out. Now."

The tech grabbed Tim's arm and retreated into the living room with full confidence that her silver-haired fox would treat her boy with the kind of care she knew he was capable of. Jethro, for his part, waited patiently, counting silently until he could no longer hear his people's footfalls before moving towards the bed.

"DiNozzo, you with me?" The covers flinched but didn't answer. He waited patiently for two… long… breaths. "I'm not going to go away."  
"Well, I was hoping, Boss."

"I'm waiting DiNozzo." For a moment the lump on the mattress drew in on itself. But Tony never ran away from anything while he was around, and he wasn't going to start now.

The lump elongated to reveal the battered form of his Senior Field Agent, looking like he needed a solid eight after a week leave. He saw the gash on the back of the head near the neckline first, and barely kept his growl inaudible. The two bruises forming on ex-cop's left cheek, one just beneath the right temple, a severe looking _scratch_ along the hairline just to the left of the nasal dent, which appeared to have bleed copiously if the stains along the man's collar were any indication, and enough scrapes to make the Agent look like a crash victim.

"Ducky said it looked like I'd been to the wars."

A salt and pepper eyebrow lifted. "I'd say someone took to throwing everything they had at your head but their fists. I'm guessing books, maybe a flowerpot?"

"Ah, your powers of observation astound me sometimes, Gibbs." Tony shifted onto his back and stared up at the ceiling; anything to keep from looking at his Boss. "I… have a lot of explaining to do."

"Yeah, probably more than you're willing to share, but you're going to. Aren't you, **Tony**?"

"Yes, Boss."

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"Agent Gibbs," Jen's voice was sharp and dripping with distaste and veiled humor, "how nice of you to knock."

"Didn't knock."

"Of course not." The Director pushed back into her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"You compromised one of my Agents to find fuel for your ass-backwards harassment of a man you've no right investigating, and without a damn chit to show for it. Especially after the CIA - you remember them, don't you? - pulled _your_ plug. That's not only sloppy **Director**, but enough to get you kicked."

Shepard's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Is that a _threat_, Jethro?"

Gibbs' smile was not a pleasant one. "I don't threaten **Director**; I deliver."

"There's nothing you or Special Agent DiNozzo can do or say against me that will stick. I am the NCIS Director; your boss. All communications between _Tony_ and I are virtually non-existent, as is the documentation regarding most of the _special_ operations regarding La Grenouille and his dependants." Jenny removed herself from her chair, smiling ferally as she placed both hands palm down against her desk. She was the one in power here and she knew how to use it well. But even she knew that her tactics wouldn't intimidate Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

"That's where you're wrong, Jen." It was the first time he used her name since they began this conversation. It wasn't a slip. "I train **my** people better than that." His smile broadened when a flicker of fear glanced across her eyes. "And DiNozzo is the best."

"He has nothing that can be used against me."

"Jeanne Benoit. And I don't think she'll be any more forgiving than our people when she finds out that she was part of an illegal operation to entrap her father."

The sharp bark of cruel laughter almost wiped the smile from the Gunny's face. Jethro narrowed his eyes fractionally as he waited for her reasoning; people like Jennifer Shepard didn't wait long to gloat. A mental count of ten and the Director's laughter died down.

"Well, let me know what Ducky finds out from Miss Benoit won't you?" The red head shook slowly. "Ah, but Miss Benoit isn't associated with the Navy. She _was_ a civilian Doctor dating a _civilian_ Professor."

"Now, I believe it best for you to head back down to your little _team_ and prepare yourself for a significant change." A slender arm rose, hand extended towards the door in a grand sweeping gesture. "You'll find that I've decided that in the best interest of NCIS your Special Agents are better suited in other areas."

'_Shit._'

"Not. Going. To. **Happen**."

"We'll see, Jethro. You're dismissed."


	2. Chapter 2

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**Chapter 2 **

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The main advantage of having the section of the top floor nearest the stairs that lead both to MTAC and the Director's office was that you had an unusually good view of the entire floor in front of you and almost guaranteed reassurance that the area behind your desks was safe. The biggest advantage, however, was being able to observe the goings-on on the top floor if you were one Ziva David, Mossad Officer and liaison to NCIS. Of course her current superior, Agent Gibbs, had an even better view because his desk sat in just the right position that he could simply tilt barely a fraction in either direction and have a clear view of both the entrance to the Director's office and the one to MTAC. This gave him a tactical advantage since he had a heads up when Director Shepard decided to get a little more personal with her agents, or when she went to and from the large communications room. 

Today, however, it was Ziva's turn to observe the activity, or rather lack of it, on the top floor. If anything, the action was centered on her floor not four feet in front of her. And even then nothing was happening because no one was actually in front of her.

McGee was sitting at his desk when she'd strolled into work twenty minutes early. She'd been feeling rather good, having beaten her previous time during her run this morning thus enabling her to get through the rest of her routine - shower, gun maintenance, then dress and off to work. With a whole half hour to spare, she'd stopped at the little cafe down the street from the NCIS offices for one of those delicious vegan wraps that Abby had recently gotten her hooked on.

She silently observed that her youngest teammate looked a little pale and fatigued, but wrote it off as usual when she remembered his penchant for 'gaming', as he would call it, sometimes took precedent over sleep. Ziva had never found the appeal of those virtual worlds full of terrorists and fake blood, and couldn't understand how a young man as bright as McGee could enjoy them. The MIT graduate didn't enjoy firing his weapon on others while in the real world, but reveled in the activity whilst online. Perhaps it was another American _thing_; one she would never care to understand, even when it bothered her to not. However, that wasn't what concerned her at the moment. It was her other, absent partner; DiNozzo.

Officer David took a moment as she sat her bag beside her chair, simultaneously using her free hand to switch her computer on, to glance across the open floor separation to Tony's desk, and took careful note that though there were indications that he'd been there today - the computer was on and the chair off to the left of his desk instead of dead center where it had been when they'd left - there was no sign of the man himself. Ziva merely shook it off and settled into her seat, expecting him to turn up at any time. But time wore on and there was no Tony. Or Gibbs, for that matter.

The Israeli looked from one desk to the other and then to the clock at least a half dozen times in just under twenty minutes before sighing in frustration and casting a look toward McGee.

"Is there a reason for both Gibbs and Tony to not be here this morning?" She shifted in her chair and casually observed their boss' desk. Unlike Tony's, it didn't show signs that the ex-Marine had been near it today.

Tim thought to ignore the question. Ziva, while a teammate and somewhat friend, still had strong ties with the Director; and right now that wasn't in the exotic woman's favor. Though Timothy didn't think less of her for her connection, he just didn't know if he could trust her. McGee winced internally at the thought of not being able to trust her, because she'd proven herself time and again; took great pains in doing so at times, as well. No, he couldn't ignore the question, but he couldn't answer her either. At least not with the complete truth.

"They're both here actually." He turned weary eyes on Ziva, and then swept them toward the MTAC stairs. "Gibbs is with the Director and Tony's either with Ducky or Abby at the moment."

Ziva frowned and scrunched her nose. "Is there something going on that I have not been made aware of?"

This is where it was going to get tricky, and he seriously didn't want to have Ziva mad at him right now. He was not in the mood for more bad things to happen. "Well, there is something, but Gibbs is going to have to fill you in on it since I don't have all the information and don't think he'd _appreciate_ me talking about it."

"And why is that McGee? Does he not trust me to understand what is going on, or does he not trust **me**?"

"Ziva, you know he trusts you, we all do; but you know how he is when something's going on that he doesn't have all the Intel on." He was finding it harder and harder to concentrate on his screen, and he really needed to finish compiling all the information he could get on Tony's gir… ex-girlfriend before Gibbs came back from the Director's office. "Besides, he hasn't told me everything either, and I know he trusts me."

She relaxed her facial features until she no longer held the look of frustration, but it was clear that she was, even more so now. What McGee had said made perfect sense. It was true that she knew that he trusted both the younger Agent as well as herself, so why did it still feel like she was being left out of the _hoop_ - Or was it loop?

"But you, at least, have some clue as to what is going on, yes?"

McGee sighed and pressed the print button. "Look Ziva, Gibbs will tell you if and when the time comes, okay? Please, don't ask me to give you something like this when I don't have all the pieces. Anyway, he didn't tell me much to begin with." He moved from behind his desk and toward the printer to collect the steadily growing stack of papers. "Just wait for Gibbs, okay?"

Tim could clearly see she wasn't happy with his answer, but noted, with relief, that she seemed to accept it. He just wished the Boss would get back soon.

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"You, my dear boy, should really be at home, resting." Ducky chided softly while checking over the various abrasions on Tony's slightly pale skin. 

"Would love to be, Duck, but we both know I can't. At least not right now." Tony winced and tried to pull away from the sting of the disinfectant the Medical Examiner was brushing over his _wounds_, though a firm hand on the side of his face kept him from going to far.

"Of course, but that doesn't mean I can not complain about your condition and the abysmal reasons you're sitting here on my table instead of tucked nicely under your comforter. Or Abby's for that matter." The elder man shook his head and tossed the soiled cloth he was using into the small red bag sitting close to his left. "Now, let me get a look at that nasty gash." He waited patiently for Tony to turn onto his stomach, and settled comfortable before leaning close to take in the injury. "Ah yes, this is a nasty wound but not to worry, it doesn't look as if it'll scar once healed. Though it won't feel too good for the next few days."

A quick, but thorough cleaning followed the wake of his words, and only the sounds of Tony's soft hissing and Dr. Mallards own movements filled Autopsy until the task was complete. Ducky turned back to the raised table that held his _tools_, picked up a cold compress and placed it gently on the back of the Agent's neck. "There we are; all done. Now, I want you to keep that on for the next twenty minutes to help ease some of the swelling that's surrounding the gash. And I want you to take some aspirin since Heaven knows you'll be needing it."

Slowly, ever so slowly, Tony managed to make his limbs obey and jerkily righted himself on the cool steel table. He felt a little lightheaded, but once he was erect and took a couple of deep breaths the feeling passed. There was a slight pressure behind his eyes and he knew that the Doc was right; he needed aspirin. "Thanks Ducky. You wouldn't happen to have some handy now, would you?"

"But of course I do. I'll just slip into my office and raid my medicine cabinet." He turned to head off toward the side door. "As soon as I return and you've taken the pills, I want Mr. Palmer to escort you to Abigail's lab where I order you, Anthony, to lay down on that little futon of hers."

Jimmy, who'd remained quiet and relatively in the background throughout Tony's arrival, moved to the Italian's side, offering a slight but serious smile. "Here, Agent DiNozzo; you can lean on me while you get off the table. You look a little dizzy there for a moment."

Tony's smile was a little dull, but grateful, while he accepted Palmer's assistance off the table and leaned into the steadying gesture for a moment before righting himself. He didn't really feel like talking and honestly felt a little embarrassed that the Autopsy Gremlin was witnessing him in such a battered state, but managed a weak "_Thanks_". He let the shorter man keep a gentle hand on his side and guide him toward the door. Ducky met them halfway with pills in hand; Tony made short work of them and finished off the glass of water that had been provided.

"Now, then, off you go," the genial voice urged. "I'll phone Abby and let her know you're on your way." Sharp eyes watched the pair start out the automated doors and smiled when he saw the taller of the two hesitate. "I'll make sure that her music is off."

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The dismissal had rankled and scraped at his nerves until they were all but raw. He had barely managed to school his features into an impassive mask when he opened the door to let himself out, and even, somehow, tipped his head toward the secretary as he passed her at his usual breakneck speed. But once out of the outer office and heading down the stairs, Gibbs let the mask slip briefly as he ground his teeth in seething frustration. The Director was off her nut, clearly, and was meaning to take down his entire team because of her little fuck-up, willing to sacrifice them all. And Jethro couldn't bring himself to label Jen insane even though her actions and words, which were still running on a perpetual loop in his head, made her seem that way. The problem was, Shepard was in full control up there in her office. She knew what she was doing and didn't seem to give a damn about how many lives she was ruining in order to get closer to her goal. 

He had loved her once, had even asked her to marry him at one point, so he knew she wasn't always like this. The Jenny Shepard that he knew, the beautiful, fresh, vivacious agent of yesteryear with biting wit and brilliance, had never been cruel or savagely calculating. True, she had her own share of problems and she was a bit tactless and naïve, but… but she'd never been **this**. Hell, Gibbs didn't even know what **this** was. All he knew was that she'd gone too far over the edge and there was absolutely nothing left of the woman he'd once loved to bring back from the edge over which she'd thrown herself.

"McGee, David, with me!" He barked out, storming past the bullpen. He didn't even wait for his people to catch up as he stabbed the down button on the elevator, pushing between the opening and slamming his knuckles into the button for Autopsy. Ziva and Tim scrambled to catch up and just barely made it into the lift before the doors closed; Tim caught the edge of the railing and winced at the spark of pain, but managed to keep the hiss behind tightly clenched lips.

Barely three breaths passed between them before Gibbs reached over and flipped the emergency switch, jolting the car to a stop. This time Timothy's hiss of pain couldn't be stifled as the sudden stop sent him back against the railing again. He bit at the inside of his cheek and shook his head when blue eyes swept over him. A curt, silver nod and the eyes shifted to stare unforgiving into deep brown.

"Does this mean you will now tell me what is going on, Gibbs?" the woman asked, subconsciously framing her body in a defensive stance.

"Do you work for me?" He watched Ziva's eyes narrow fractionally but she didn't answer. "I **asked** you a question, Officer David."

"Yes. I work for you," she growled out. "Of course I do, Gibbs."

He wasn't convinced, but it was a step in the right direction. "Do you answer to me or the Director?"

"I answer to you, both… what is this about?!"

Moments passed with only quiet breathing for an answer. Gibbs seemed to measure her worth, and it became evident that he found her wanting as he turned and flicked the elevator back into motion. It didn't last long because Ziva surged forward and slammed the trigger down, actually growling over the ex-Marine.

"I answer to **you**. I no longer go to Director Shepard. Only **you**, Gibbs."

With deliberate care, Jethro wrapped his hand around her fingers and pulled her hand away from the lever. "Good."

The ride finished in silence.

-------------------------------------------------------

Surprisingly, Ducky met the trio as the elevator doors opened and redirected the agents toward Abby's lab '_If they wanted to find young Anthony, and Mr. Palmer_'. 

"Yes, it does seem that I've either lost my assistant to the wiles of our resident forensic genius or DiNozzo has managed to engage James in some random tangent or, more likely, sent him to run errands for him." Donald continued as he pressed in beside Timothy. "One of these days I will have to give him a stern talking to. He's rather eager to please, you see."

Thankfully, the ride was short, and soon they all poured out into the hallway, headed to the same destination; Gibbs in the lead and without a Caff-Pow! beverage that seemed to fuel the Gothic Mistress that ruled the forensics lab. The automated door slid to allow them entry. Gibbs stopped short of the large specimen fridge.

"Abby?"

There was a rustling sound then twin pigtails flashed from beneath the table follow quickly by scrambling limbs and leather on concrete. "Gibbs, I was wondering when you'd get here! We got trouble."

'_That ain't even the half of it, Abs._'

"Where's Tony?"

Abby gestured wildly, hands flying into a flurry of motion. Signs formed and melted into one another, growing more flamboyant as her agitation grew. Growing up in a deaf home, she had a grasp of ASL that many would envy and, unfortunately, only few could actually follow if they hadn't had been exposed to the language for a number of years. Gibbs was not one of those people. He rarely practiced outside of the few silent conversations he held with this very woman, and was soon lost in the movements.

Gibbs raised turned his left hand over and quickly slammed the side of his right into the open palm, flipping them over to then run the palm across the top of his other hand; telling her to ease up and slow down. His fingers flew into motion, urging her to calm down and tell him what happened, why she was so upset. He gave her an indulgent but strained smile when she took a deep breath.

"He's gone - I mean they're gone. Him and Jimmy both. See, I was doing a clean up on my system, since there's nothing in the lab this morning so it was really slow, and so I'm checking my email, naturally, and I come across this really hinky internal memo that's talking about **everyone**! I read it and, of course, I start freaking out, and about that time Duckman calls and tells me that Jimmy's bringing Tony to me so he can crash on the futon, so there I am running to turn my music off and grab the futon and little blanket combo, and grabbing Bert because he's like the best pillow **ever**. I had to do that first because Tony needs his rest."

It was amazing that she could get that out all in one breath and just when it looked like she was going to continue Abby paused long enough to suck in some much needed oxygen, and launched right back into the thick of things without missing a beat.

"I'm getting all that set up in the back room, making things all nice for Tony, when they walk in. Tony's all quiet and looks like a kicked puppy, and he's trying so hard not to _look_ like a kicked puppy that he starts babbling ninety to nothing, and poor Jimmy's trying to keep up. Well, I kinda tune him out for just a _second_, Gibbs, I swear, to finish getting everything all nice and comfy, and then Tony's suddenly cussing up a storm in Italian. I don't think I've ever heard him like that before."

"I'd left the memo up! But I didn't realize that until he was practically dragging Jimbo out the door and heading to the stairs. Now I did try to follow them!" Her hands flew up, fingers spread wide, to cut the Gunny off before he started. "But he **yelled** at me. Told me to stay in the lab and don't go anywhere until he or you came to get me." Abby's bottom lip quivered for a moment and her voice lowered until she sounded more like a scared little girl then the tough as nails twenty-something woman she was. "Tony never yells at me."

Gibbs moved forward and drew the distraught tech into his arms, offering her whatever comfort he could. "Shh, Abs, you know he didn't mean to yell at you. Because he knows I'll kill him if he does."

McGee was already at the computer and had pulled up the memo she'd mentioned. He was stunned at the contents and bit back a startled '_fuck_'. "Boss… Boss the Director's breaking us up! Not only that, but she's siccing Internal Affairs on you and Tony." He tossed a nervous glance to the foreign officer.

Ziva moved to stand beside her partner and quickly scanned the screen, letting loose a heated string of distinctly _non_-English words in a sharp, deadly tone. She spun away and immediately crossed behind the desk to start pacing. "She is sending me back to Israel! Without even consulting me, she is dissolving my visa and **sending me home**!"

On the other side of the room, Gibbs clenched his teeth to keep his own anger over the situation from polluting the air. He screwed his eyes tight and forced himself to recite the Marine CoC - Code of Conduct - until he was able to wrangle enough control over himself to speak.

He released Abby and took a step back, running a quick hand over his hair to give himself a few extra seconds to compose himself.

"She's moving faster than I thought, and that was my first mistake." He lifted his hand and pointed toward McGee. "Abby, you and McGee get into our own systems and make this go away for as long as you can. Then find a way to stop Ziva's deportation." The silver-haired man spun on his heel and made his way toward the door at a good clip. "Buy me as much time as you can! Ducky, I'll find Palmer and send him back as soon as I can. Ziva, you're with me!"


End file.
